


Another Time

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Toast To The End Of The World [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Drabble, Forbidden Love, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Pining, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Crowley has a gift for Aziraphale.





	Another Time

   It was a beautiful day.

   If one didn’t count the screaming child a few feet away and the exhausted mother who looked near tears as she stared down at the boy helplessly.

   Besides that, of course, the sun was shining, the water was calm, and already there was a small group of ducks kicking their way toward the shore as though they recognized him. Really, it couldn’t get much better than this…well except perhaps; a lollipop appeared in the young boy’s mouth, startling him, though he was quick to smooth out the disturbance in memory, and just like that, serene quiet fell over the park.

   “I saw that.”

   Aziraphale jumped at the familiar voice of his old friend, who sauntered around the bench and sank down heavily onto it.

   “Oh, it was only a minor miracle.”

   Crowley smirked, his eyes hidden behind those dark sunglasses, “if I recall correctly, it was ‘little miracles’ that got you reprimanded last time.”

   Aziraphale huffed, “I’ve barely performed any in the past week and besides, the mother looks exhausted.”

   Crowley was shaking his head, and assumedly looking out across the lake as pedestrians walked the path chattering quietly to themselves. Aziraphale found himself watching a particular couple, arm in arm, heads tilted close, for a long moment. Just as quickly he shook himself from the distraction, all too aware of what dangerous thoughts and emotions lurked around those corners of his mind.

   “Aziraphale.”

   He blinked back at Crowley, who now had a furrow between his brows, betraying the fact that he must have called his name multiple time, “Sorry, uh, um, what was it you said?”

   Crowley didn’t answer right away, likely examining him behind those tinted shades. If Aziraphale was honest, he sort of hated them, much preferring to see those usually expressive, vibrant eyes. But there he goes thinking all sorts of thoughts that only lead to trouble again!

   “Hmm, you alright Angel?”

   “F-fine,” he stumbled. That nickname, well it wasn’t really a nickname was it? Just a statement of fact but the way his old friend used it never failed to unsettle Aziraphale’s rather traitorous heart.

   Crowley shrugged, clearly electing to let it go and Aziraphale had to smother a sigh of relief and forced himself to relax back into the bench and the air around them. For a long moment neither of them said anything, hard won companionable silence reigning supreme and Aziraphale found himself reflecting on the reality that he was decidedly happy.

   How strange. He was always happy or at very least content. There were few things that interrupted that disposition, not that he didn’t worry plenty but generally all was well. So really, being happy shouldn’t be remarkable in any sense of the word but then that must mean there must be something making him exceptionally happy.

   “I got you something.”

   Startled once more, Aziraphale found himself staring at Crowley who appeared to be trying very hard not to look unaffected and reserved. He held up his hand and a book appeared in his palm, weathered and used looking but bore the signs like badges of love.

   “Oh, you really shouldn’t have,” Aziraphale murmured, already reaching for the volume.

   Crowley simply shrugged, not looking at him as he examined the title.

   It was in Latin and really quite old. The angel held it up close to his face, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes to the familiar rich scent that wafted from it. Old parchment and older ink, spices riding just behind, and finally the faintest hint of smoke, imbedded in the pages and never to fade.

   “Crowley!” he exclaimed. “You brought me a book from the Library of Alexandria?! How did you even get this? How long have you had it?”

   The grin that spread across his companion’s face was infectious as Aziraphale handled the priceless artifact with care. Crowley shrugged, though it was quite obvious he was rather pleased with himself.

   “Not long. I was tempting a collector into a major heist on a museum in Russia when I found that in his collection. He didn’t even know what he had.”

   “You stole it?” Aziraphale asked, scandalized.

   Crowley waved away the concern, “he didn’t even know he had it, honestly it was wasted on him.”

   He pursed his lips. It truly was a rare and beautiful artifact. While he couldn’t condone thievery, it was true that it would be safe with him. Not to mention the way Crowley was watching him, practically preening from the joy the gift brought, there was no way he’d insist it be returned.

   “Thank you, old friend. I suppose I owe you lunch.”

  A hand clapped down on his shoulder, “yeah, I’d say that’s a fair-trade Angel.”

   The hand stayed glued to Aziraphale’s shoulder a moment longer than necessary, both of them watching each other. Ah, of course. He was happy, exceptionally happy, for one very distinct and problematic reason.

   All well. A hurtle for another day.


End file.
